


i could pick it up (we could take it slow)

by andwhatyousaid



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andwhatyousaid/pseuds/andwhatyousaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam's a handsy drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i could pick it up (we could take it slow)

**Author's Note:**

> This is very self-indulgent. Warnings for drunk consent (although it's an established relationship). Apologies for the entire thing being in lower-case. Hope y'all can enjoy it. Disclaimer: Entirely fiction. Please don't show this to the real people who may or may not be described here.

harry watches liam order another double-vodka sprite and raises his eyebrows at him when he turns around from the bar. they’re standing close enough that harry can feel the heat from liam’s shoulders, the rustle of his button-down when he shrugs at harry. the lighting casts off spots of shadows interspersed with flashes of bright color and for a moment liam’s whole face is lit up; his eyes are opened up, wide and black, his cheeks flushed, his mouth red. then the lights shift again and harry tries to remember exactly how blown apart liam’s pupils had been when he leans in to find liam’s ear.

he says against it, “that kind of night, yeah?” 

liam laughs right into his ear in return, leaning in further. it’s hot inside the club and harry feels liam’s breath, the melodic in and out of his laughter lay moist against his neck and jaw. his voice is humid when he tells harry, “might as well, right?”

harry cracks a smile although liam can’t exactly see with how harry’s tilted his head. he starts to pull back so that liam can and nod towards the other side of the room where the other boys are waiting or dancing, but liam grips the back of his head with one of his large free hands and reels him in again. he says into harry’s ear, “aren’t you going to get anything?”

his voice is so low that it takes harry a moment but then he shakes his head, bringing his own hand up to tug liam’s away, finally gesturing towards the other end of room, watching liam’s eyes find his face as a flash of light blooms over them again. he says, “c’mon.”

he can’t imagine that liam can hear him but liam grins, his whole face crinkling, and takes his drink from the bar. he extends his hand in front of him as if to say _no, you first, i insist_ , so harry crooks a smile at him and leads the way.

he offers his hand back to liam when they get stuck between a group of people attached in a train dancing in sync, their dresses and shirts and jeans raising higher and lower up their bodies, their hair flipping forwards and back. he glances to make sure liam’s still there and finds him with his hand curled into his chest, hunched over his drink but grinning like he’s about to laugh. his other hand finds harry’s, and as harry closes his fingers around the ends of liam’s he’s struck with how warm they are, sweaty at the webbing between liam’s knuckles.

he doesn’t let go until they’re at the booth they’d all staked out earlier in the night. only zayn’s there, leaning backwards into the booth, stretched out in the corner with one arm flung around the back of it, his leg bent all over the space next to him, his other hand flipping his lighter up and down against the table top. he’s got a slow smile on his face though, scanning the crowd. his smile brightens up when he spots harry and liam, and he starts to shift, sitting up straighter like he’s going to edge out of the booth.

liam lets go of harry’s fingers after squeezing them once to sit at the end of the booth on the opposite side of zayn. he giggles a little when zayn leans over to say something to him. harry can’t hear it, can’t really read the way zayn’s lips are moving with the lighting and the noise level throwing him off, but he sees zayn touch the rim of liam’s drink and say something else that only makes liam shrug and smile, tilting his chin up almost like he’s being defiant or cheeky.

zayn laughs and slides out of the booth. he’d worn his hair down, fluffed out around his head and when he gets closer to harry, coming to stand next to him at the end of the table, harry can see that it’s starting to stick to his forehead with sweat. he leans in to talk nearer to harry’s ear, “gonna go for a smoke, alright?” he looks into harry’s face and claps him on the shoulder, jerking his head towards liam behind him. “need anything?”

harry smiles slowly, enough to show his dimples and says, “i got it.” he makes to steal zayn’s lighter, grabbing loosely for his hand, “get out of here.” zayn dodges easily and squeezes his shoulder once before disappearing into the crowd.

liam’s still sat at the end of the booth facing harry, his legs hanging over the side of it rather than underneath the table. his feet are planted on the floor, his knees jiggling together a little, and he’s sipping at his drink. he keeps making a sort of wince that scrunches up one side of his face each time he swallows but then smiles a bit after like maybe it wasn’t as bad as he was expecting.

harry slides into the side opposite of him and watches liam watching the crowd for a moment.

*

he’s in the middle of typing out a text and considering ordering another drink or diving back out to dance when he feels liam’s hand fold around his wrist and tug. he looks up in time for liam to lean in, much closer than he was last time harry had looked at him, sat right next to harry on his side of the booth, partially on his knees, turned towards him. liam says, “come on, let’s go.” half of the words land right on harry’s ear, liam’s mouth smearing across his lobe, and the other too far away.

he glances over liam’s arm on the table top to find his empty glass sitting there. he says, “alright,” and tries to push the sound out from the back of his throat so that it’s loud enough to be heard over the music and noise. liam tugs at his wrist again, wrapping his fingers more firmly until they press all the way into harry’s skin, and he’s grinning hard enough to show his teeth when he leans away from harry’s ear, back into view.

harry finishes up his text as quickly as he can, although liam keeps tugging at him anyway, his fingers growing heavy and heated, and harry sends the text as is. he breaks liam’s hold to shake his hands through his hair.

liam’s buzzing, practically vibrating, bouncing on his toes as harry follows him and his wide shoulders, his hand reaching backwards to touch harry’s arm or side on and off like he’s checking that harry’s really there as they move out of the booth and into the crowd. the lights flash over them in-between a curve around a corner and harry watches the stretch of liam’s shoulder blades moving apart beneath the white fabric of his shirt.

they find louis and niall pressed up close to one another. louis’ arm is slung around niall’s shoulders, his face dipping in and out of niall’s neck between his laugh, a drink in his hand and niall’s gesturing something out to whoever they’re talking to, both of his eyebrows raised. they break away from the group they’re in though when they catch sight of liam and harry, waving with both their hands over their heads simultaneously.

when they’re less than a foot away, louis moves from niall to pull harry into a hug, wrapping his arm around harry’s shoulders, standing up on his tippie-toes to say into his ear, “thought i lost you, harold.” there’s a lilt to his voice like he’s smiling and his other arm’s extended from their bodies, holding his drink out. he’d rolled the sleeves of his t-shirt up a few times but one side’s lower than the other, ruffled, starting to unfold.

harry tells him, “the lost has been found.” he pats the small of louis’ back a couple times, hugging him back. he leans back a little to say, “what’re we having?” and jerks his chin at louis drink.

behind them over louis’ shoulder, niall’s laughing bright and loud, his tank top falling off of one shoulder, and liam’s laughing with him, hunched in towards niall, holding both of niall’s wrists in his hands, trying to talk around his giggles, his lips moving too fast for harry to keep up.

louis says, “rum and coke.” he shouts to be heard over the music and shakes his glass a little, offering it to harry. “want in?”

harry hums for a moment, unable to decide, and louis takes the opportunity to bounce back up on his toes, surging forward to tell harry, “no, nevermind, i’ve got you, i know what you need,” holding onto his bicep.

harry raises his eyebrows at him, a smile shifting around his mouth, but louis points a finger in his face and says firmly, “wait here,” before shouldering his way past harry towards the bar.

harry dances badly with niall while he waits for louis to return. niall oscillates between throwing his arms up and exaggerated body rolls, and grabbing harry in a zealous hug, trying to jump up on his body like he’s climbing, saying, “i love you! this is so fun.” he doesn’t slur much, but his voice gets interrupted with his laugh. harry returns all of his hugs and laughs with him.

liam spends most of the time dancing next to them -- shaking his shoulders in a shimmy, rocking his hips in a rhythm, pretending to hold a drink out in front of him and dance with it. he leans over to talk to a small group of people standing next to them sometimes, and each time he angles his head towards them harry watches the lighting highlight the line of his jaw, the stubble growing there, catching on how dark his eyes have become, his face suddenly looking serious as it works mid-word.

harry doesn’t realize that liam’s disappeared until he looks up from niall and a couple of girls they’ve started half-talking to half-dancing with and can’t find his face anywhere. it isn’t long though before he sees louis wading through the crowd with a drink in each hand, holding his arms above his head as much as he can to keep from spilling, and liam behind him, a new drink curled into his chest, his shoulders turning to thin his body so that he can slide sideways through a group of people.

louis tucks one of the drinks into harry’s hand as soon as he reaches him and says, “go on, then,” nodding at him, lifting his eyebrows with a smile, so harry does.

zayn joins them not long after, shouting, “there you are,” over the volume and smelling like fresh smoke, it clinging to his collar as he ropes harry into a one-armed hug on one side and louis into one on the other.

*

time speeds up in a blur. it’s a blend of the body heat and the smell of sweat so near that it’s hard to tell where the edge of harry’s numb fingers begin and his toes end. the music is constant and loud, pressing a hard beat up to the bottom of harry’s spine, mixed up with cuts of people’s voices and shouts, his mouth tasting like the hot flash of tequila and lime, his tongue feeling large and numb in his mouth, his lips stretched over a grin where he can hardly feel his front teeth to know if they’re showing or not.

at one point, liam grabs at harry’s hand and shoulder, pulling him into the side of his solid chest, and says all over his ear, “where’s the loo?” his breath is hot and loud against harry’s ear. his lips keep brushing the side of harry’s face while he waits for him to respond, and harry scans over the crowd, squinting to get his eyes to focus but it’s all a slur of colors bending into one another, his eyes unable to take it in. he reaches for liam’s hand and tilts his head back so that liam’s breathing into his chin, his jaw and throat to say into his ear, “here, i’ll show you.”

they manage to weave their way to the back of the club by where their table had been and stumble into the men’s room. it’s surprisingly empty; the lighting is at once crisp, overly bright and dull, stinging the corners of harry’s eyes.

liam only trips over himself once while he fumbles to get his jeans undone at one of the urinals and harry tries to only giggle a little.

he looks away from liam to bend over the sink until it presses into his stomach and make faces at himself in the mirror and the cracks that run up the walls like veins behind it, fussing with his hair. his eyes look large and he's a little flushed high up on his cheeks, low on his neck. he hears liam startle into a laugh and calls out, “what?” he’s caught between looking away from his reflection starting to smile, a dimple deepening in his cheek, fascinated by the way it’s slowly forming and looking at liam.

by the time he does look, liam’s zipping his jeans with an expression of diligent concentration and saying, “no, no, i can’t -- i’ll tell you later.” he looks up, turns his head and offers harry half a smile, one eyebrow raised and one lowered, his nose wrinkling.

after he washes, he puts his hands on harry’s shoulders, shakes him a little and says, “shall we?”

harry feels a grin growing over his face. he says, “oh, please, after you,” and gestures with a grand sweep of his hand.

liam leans forward, half laughing. he kisses harry’s cheek but his aim is off and it smears on harry’s mouth, his bottom lip sliding against harry’s for a brief moment. he makes a belated exaggerated “muah” sound and then smiles again, different from before, his mouth looking pink. he squeezes harry’s shoulders before walking towards the door.

it takes harry a moment, but he follows liam out.

at another point, liam falls backwards into harry’s chest, his back slamming up against harry. they nearly topple over, but liam keeps them upright with a balancing hand on harry’s hip, twisting his wrist backwards to grip him and carry the momentum forward.

liam leaves his hand there for a while, staying in front of harry and harry feels the sharp heat of liam’s fingers against his bare skin, his warm large palm sliding beneath his shirt, his nails scratching beneath the waistband of harry’s jeans on and off. it’s over too quick for harry to catch liam, but the imprint sticks to harry’s skin -- the feel of liam’s back and shoulders coming into visible clear focus, overheated and slightly sweaty around liam’s collar right where the material of his shirt pulls under his upper arms, his arse bumping the line of harry’s hips and thighs.

harry shakes his hair out to pay better attention to what niall’s telling him, leaning in closer around liam’s shoulder like it’ll help him hear better. liam turns his head to glance at him briefly, and his cheek and jaw are right there, nearly dragging across harry’s nose and mouth.

the lighting shifts and harry stares at liam’s darkened eyes. the corner of liam’s mouth pulls for a second around his teeth and harry watches him swallow. he tilts his head down so that his ear’s closer to liam’s mouth, thinks he said something that harry must’ve missed, but liam doesn’t say anything; he breathes against it, the air landing hot and moist into harry’s skin.

closer to the end of the night, after the last round of drinks that harry skips out on, cheers-ing with his empty glass at the lot of them, liam takes turns hugging everyone for extended periods of time. he grapples with harry first, pulling him into his chest, tucking his arms around harry’s shoulders and neck, pushing his face into harry’s throat.

harry can hear him laugh, feel it landing on his neck -- low by his collarbones and high beneath his ear. he feels the white flash of liam’s teeth when he tells harry, “this is buzzing, this is absolutely great, you’re my favorite,” when he says, “this is my favorite, i love you, your hair smells so good,” it comes out in a steady rumble, punctuated with liam pushing his hands through harry’s hair at the nape of his neck and sliding them down harry’s back as far as he can reach, “is this a new shampoo, maybe it’s your cologne.” he keeps talking, “let’s not go home, we’re the best band in the world.”

harry rubs liam on the back and shoulders.“i know, quite a lot of fun we’re having,” he says, “you’re an amazing dancer, and don’t tell anyone, but you’re my favorite too.”

he wonders what liam says to everyone else when he hugs them -- grabbing niall from behind and pulling him into his chest, hooking his chin over his shoulder; leaning sideways into zayn, his hand thrown loosely across his back; picking louis up briefly and setting him down playfully, acting like he’s going to drop or throw him. but harry’s distracted before he can think of it for too long, and liam returns to him in the end, tucking once more into harry’s front, sliding his arm around harry’s waist. his grip is so strong, solid muscle behind harry, and he slouches a bit like he wants harry to hold him more than anything, although he ruins it by trying to dance at the same time, swaying them to the beat of the music, shaking his shoulders slightly, rotating his hips.

*

before harry knows it, he’s falling out of the back door of the club, niall tumbling out right after him, turned backwards to gesture and talk to zayn and louis, liam bringing up the rear.

there’s a smattering of hanging lights around the doorframe, but they’re dim and flickering like a bulb has been smashed. the street looks darker the longer harry stares out into it; it glitters as if it’s wet or damp and harry wonders if it really is, if when he puts his feet on it he’d be able to feel it soaking in through the bottom of his boots.

there’s a deliberation of who’s going where, how many cabs to call while zayn lights up a cigarette and niall tries to bum a couple hits off him. they clutter into a loose circle.

liam can’t seem to stop moving worse than ever, worse than when they were inside. he’s shifting from each of them, swinging louis in a circle with an arm around his waist and pulling niall into a headlock, tickling zayn underneath his ribs, sliding his hands up harry’s back from behind him.

zayn exhales and the smoke curls through his words, dodging in and out of his sentence as he says, “someone should take him, eh?” he hooks his thumb at liam, who seems torn between making a pout, puffing his bottom lip out and furrowing his eyebrows, and laughing. “what a handful,” zayn says, half of his mouth rising in a smile.

niall laughs, “nice to let loose a bit, huh?” he slings his arm across zayn’s shoulders. “he’ll be fine, though. yeah, leemo?”

as harry shifts to focus on liam rather than niall, he feels liam looking back at him; he watches liam's face tighten, his eyes opened up but dark and black, his mouth red, the angle of jaw looking sharper than ever -- like when he’d leaned over to talk to the people standing next to him and the light fell on his face. liam shrugs a little, tilting his head from side to side before he says, “yeah, harry’s gonna take me.” liam grins at him and it’s all teeth. “right, hazza?”

and they do this sometimes -- sometimes harry goes home with liam or liam comes home with him, sometimes it isn't just sometimes, so harry says, “right, yeah, ‘course,” without hesitating. his chest is hot but the splash of tequila’s still burning bright in his sternum and his hands are still numb so he doesn’t think about it. he clears his throat and says again, “yeah,” smiling back enough to dimple. they just haven’t done it after a night out like this; they’ve never gone home together after liam’s been accepting drink after drink, his face flushed, his mouth already red and his eyes already dilated, out of focus. it’s just that it’s new, this thing between them, and usually it takes something different, something else entirely to get liam to look like that.

louis urges him to take the first cab that comes, raising a brow, muttering, “good luck with that one,” but smiling just like zayn had, with half his mouth. he winks too.

liam’s been swaying exaggeratedly and laughing, and he doesn’t notice when the cab pulls up. harry wraps his arm around liam’s shoulder to reign him in, pull him away, saying, “alright rockstar, let’s get you home,” but liam says, “wait, hang on.” he’s already hugged goodbye to both niall and louis, and he’s turned to zayn now. he takes zayn’s face between both of his hands and says seriously to him, “zayn, zayn, there’s something important -- there’s something i’m meant to tell you.”

zayn’s laughing a little but also trying to tug liam’s hands away. “that’s okay, you can tell me later, go on," he says and jerks his chin towards the cab. liam’s hands move with his head.

liam’s insistent, “no, zayn, listen.” he shakes his head as if zayn doesn’t get it, emphatic, so zayn stills long enough for liam to take a breath and say, “i love you.”

zayn laughs loudly and finally tugs liam away with two hands, saying, “yeah, yeah, love you forever, now off with you.” but louis crows, “wait, where’s mine,” so liam giggles and turns to him, kissing his cheek and harry watches as it lands nowhere near louis’ mouth, tucked safely into the side of his face perfectly between his ear and nose. liam’s telling louis, “i didn’t mean anything by it, i swear,” before he turns to niall and offers him a kiss as well.

liam tries to give harry a kiss next and harry laughs but feels the flare of something cold shock through his stomach, imagining where it’s going to end up so he says, “i’m going with you, you goof,” and ducks, dodging liam, tucking him into the cab instead. liam rolls over both of the seats until he lands right side up against the opposite door.

*

in the cab, liam slouches in his seat and spreads his knees apart so that his jeans are thinned out between his thighs from where they’ve slid down. he looks out the window with a hand curled around his cheek and chin until harry flicks him in the side of his face and he turns his head suddenly to bite at harry’s finger.

harry’s laugh startles him a little, bubbling out of his mouth abruptly and he watches liam smile in return, his eyes crinkling.

from then on liam’s undivided attention seems to be focused on him, tuned in. liam runs his fingers over harry’s ribs in a tickle while they turn a corner, leans in so near that harry can’t see anything except for how his mouth looks swollen from being so red, how his pupils are completely dilated, his neck flushed even in the low lighting, the street signs flashing behind his head. he seems to laugh at everything and nothing, as if all of harry’s responses are surprising and funny.

he grows more daring with each minute too, lingering his hands in the space between where harry’s shirt has ridden up and his waistband at the next red light, touching the back of harry’s neck after, carding one hand through harry’s hair and leaning over to look, saying, “no, i’m fixing it,” when harry tries to protest, moving in close enough for harry to feel his breath, smell the slur of vodka. he runs his fingers over harry’s necklaces resting against his collarbone as they move through an intersection. but he moves away each time before harry can catch him.

sometimes liam’s face drops into something serious and still, his eyes narrowing, becoming intense, his mouth slack as he looks at harry and harry thinks maybe he’s caught liam then, right then, but the moment falls away and it makes harry feel dizzy with trying to keep up like all his blood’s rushing to his head and it’s an overload, sloshing around in excess.

when they pull up to liam’s place, liam’s shifted so that his head’s laying on harry’s shoulder, slumped in his seat totally, bumping his nose into harry’s neck, his long fingers picking at a loose thread on harry’s knee. harry’s got his arm around liam’s shoulder and the cab rolling to a stop jerks them both.

liam doesn’t yawn though, acting as if he isn’t tired at all, turning his face up to smile at harry until harry smiles back full force before they slide out of the cab.

*

on liam’s front porch, liam giggles instead of unhooking his house keys from his belt loop so harry does it for him, sliding his fingers around the carabiner hanging from the front of his jeans to unlatch it and tug his keys from his pocket. liam’s hands come up around harry’s like they’re going to help in the space between their bodies, hovering, cupping around harry’s fingers as harry pulls the keys away and folds them into his open hand. when harry glances up, liam’s looking down at their hands and biting his bottom lip, but then he looks up too and his expression clears -- his eyes widening, his mouth morphing into a smile.

harry gives him a crooked smile back and says, “alright?”

liam nods and drops his hands, shoving them into his pockets. he rocks a little on his feet, up on his toes, down on his heels, humming.

harry turns around to squint in the low lighting for the right key and it isn’t long before he finds it, leaning up against the door to slide it into the lock. before he manages to turn it all the way, liam steps up right behind him, hooking his chin on harry’s shoulder and placing his hands on harry’s hip, guiding harry backwards into his body so that his large back is right up against liam’s chest. liam says into his ear, “found it, haz?” his mouth catches on the outline of harry’s ear.

harry swallows, feeling liam’s palm starting to rub against his stomach inwards toward his belly-button. he feels incredibly warm against harry -- his chest is like a furnace, his face hot next to harry’s cheek and neck. he leans back into liam and finishes turning the key, says, “yeah, i got you.” they both push the door open at the same time.

liam doesn’t let go of harry as they stumble through the threshold, trying to walk at the same time. he laughs a little into the back of harry’s neck and tightens his arm across harry’s waist until it pins harry there, holding him up.

harry says, “liam, hey, c’mon,” pushing at liam’s forearm in an attempt to loosen it, trying to turn around to shut the door rather than walking further into the house, but liam only lets go enough to slide his hand up harry’s chest to his shoulder, still holding him back, and laughs like it’s a joke.

harry laughs too but it rubs at his throat, too dry, and he pushes at liam again, curling his hand around the words trailing up liam's arm. "let me at least," he says, swinging them around in a wobbly circle so that he can push the door closed with his outstretched hand.

it shuts with a click and liam finally drops his arm, moving instead to slide his palm across harry's back before harry slips away, throwing him a smile over his shoulder while he flips a lightswitch and the whole room brightens up immediately. he passes between liam's couch and coffee table in an effort to get to the kitchen, tosses liam's keys down as he goes.

liam says, "hang on, where're you off to now?"

harry turns around to walk backwards slowly. "don't think you should go to bed without water or summat, yeah?"

liam's standing just at the end of the couch on the side closest to the door, resting his weight on his hand on the armrest. he's pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows and the way he's holding himself up makes the veins in his forearms stick out. he says, "what if i don't want to go to bed, then."

when harry looks at his face, he isn't smiling. his mouth looks slack like when he'd drop into a serious expression in the cab, his eyebrows quirked slightly. harry stops walking, pausing a little ways off from the other end of the couch. "yeah? just planning on staying up all night, huh?" his mouth starts to widen around a grin.

liam starts to smile too. "oh yeah, absolutely, all night," he says, nodding as if they've come to a great understanding.

harry laughs but liam doesn't, although he doesn't stop smiling either. harry begins to say, "wanna watch telly or whatever?" at the same time that liam opens his mouth to say, "running off to anywhere else, then?" liam's voice is low but he speaks more loudly than harry had and the sound carries over harry's voice, echoing around the room.

harry huffs a laugh and scratches a hand at the back of his head, glancing between the floor and liam. "suppose not," he says.

it seems like no time passes at all before liam's walking up to harry, dream-like as if harry’s just taken another shot, the lights much brighter in liam’s house than the street or bar or cab, highlighting liam's shoulders stretching out his button-down, his broad chest, his jeans tight across his thighs and down his legs, the stubble across his jaw, a soft slur of color around his edges like he’s coming into focus slowly -- until he's right there, right in front of harry, reaching out with one broad hand for the back of harry's head right where harry had been scratching a moment ago, threading his fingers into harry's hair, pulling him closer, his pupils large and dark, his mouth pink and closed before he ascends on harry, pressing a kiss to his lips. once, twice, and then more urgently again, tugging harry closer, bringing his other hand up to tilt harry's jaw down into the kiss. 

harry makes a noise at the back of his throat, caught in a slow surprise and touches the side of liam's face, which liam seems to respond to immediately, opening his mouth, making a sound like a moan. he tastes like vodka and harry thinks he’s so drunk, he’s really drunk.

he tries to say, "wait, liam," but liam doesn't stop kissing him, holding harry's face between his hands, sliding his body forward to press up into harry's chest and legs.

liam only pulls back to frown slightly after a moment when harry tries to keep talking in half syllables that drag out into muffled noises against his mouth. liam's eyebrows furrow and his mouth already looks swollen, more red than before. he says, "stop it, just," before leaning in to kiss harry again. his mouth is warm and wet, persistent, and harry can’t help from making a sound into it, leaning into liam as much as liam’s leaning into him, opening his mouth up too.

liam’s thumb strokes at his jaw, his other hand hot against the back of his neck, and harry reaches to pull him closer, sliding his hands around liam’s back. his body still feels vaguely loose and numb around the edges from drinking, but liam’s warm as he presses into harry and harry feels like he’s waking up, like sensation’s prickling back into his fingers and toes, the material of liam’s shirt heated from sweat, the planes of liam’s shoulders and back feeling solid and real under his hands, alive. he isn’t so drunk anymore, he thinks, but liam is and liam keeps pressing against him, relentless.

they kiss until liam’s pushing forward into harry like he's trying to consume harry through his mouth, suck his soul dry, pushing hard enough that harry has to let go of liam's hip suddenly to steady them with a hand on the side of the couch they've inched towards so that they don’t fall over. liam only makes a sound in response and slides his tongue along harry's teeth, still gripping the sides of harry's face and his hair with both hands, leaning into the slight change in position.

harry winds his other arm around liam's waist and breaks away from his mouth although it's difficult with the insistent press of liam's tongue against his, liam's teeth at his lip. he breathes heavily into the side of liam's neck. they're both slouched a bit into each other and the couch. harry's arm is starting to feel sore and tense from holding them up so he says, "maybe we should," he wets his mouth and pulls back from liam's neck to jerk his chin at the couch. "relocate?" he can feel liam's chest expanding quickly against his.

liam's mouth is utterly red, completely swollen and harry watches it as liam says, "if we must, then," his voice low and uneven. he seems reluctant to release his hold on harry and only compromises by sliding his hands down to harry's shoulders, squeezing a little and biting at his lower lip while they shuffle over to the other end of the couch.

harry sits first, letting himself fall back into the cushions more than anything. the couch is soft and firm simultaneously, easy against his back, smooth on his arms. he tugs at liam's belt loop in front of him and looks up into his face above him. he says, "c'mon."

liam drops into harry's lap, spreading his knees across harry's thighs so that they touch the couch on either side, his shins resting on the length of the cushions, his feet pushed inward so that they wrap around the undersides of harry's knees. he slouches and looks up at harry through his eyelashes for a moment. his thighs and legs are so warm against harry, and harry thinks he could feel liam's arse if liam lowered his hips just a bit, it wouldn't take much. he breathes in sharply at the same time that liam breathes out and reaches for him, his whole hand going around the back of harry's neck and kissing him open-mouthed, pushing his broad chest into harry's.

it isn't long before liam's moaning into harry’s mouth and pushing his hips down against harry's, searching for friction. harry slides his hands up liam's back and feels the hot hard length of liam press into his thigh, press right into the bulge in his jeans where he's hard too. liam moans more loudly at the contact, grinding his hips, his kissing growing frantic as harry thrusts up; he opens his mouth up wider, fisting his hand so tightly in harry's hair that it hurts like a shockwave crackling all the way down his spine and forces his jaw open wider too. he moans.

liam seems to only be able to stand it for a moment, grinding down against harry again before loosening his hand to slide it down harry's chest and stomach. he groans and pulls away from harry's mouth with a wet sound. he says, "off," and his voice is so low, already raspy like he's been screaming. he pushes at harry's shirt all over the place -- shoving his palm at the material and pressing it up to move it out of the way, fisting it and pulling at it while he tries to duck back in to keep kissing harry.

harry makes a noise against liam and thinks about how liam's mouth had looked even worse when he'd pulled back, red and wet, his face flushed. he slides his hands away from liam's hips to take ahold of liam's hands, which only makes liam moan into him, leaning into it and pushing his hips down against harry's more urgently than before like he doesn't know he's doing it. he draws liam's hands up to liam's chest as if asking him to keep them there and then lets go, reaching behind his head to pull his shirt off and toss it away.

liam watches, biting at his lip, his eyes scanning. he runs his hands down harry's chest and stomach as soon as his shirt's gone and harry sees the skin along the underside of liam's lip turn white from the pressure of his teeth. he squeezes liam's arse and hears liam’s breath hitch in his chest.

then liam’s tugging harry’s necklaces to pull him in, kissing harry again and again like he wants to drown in it, his knees spreading apart wider, grinding helplessly against harry’s hips, his hands moving from harry’s shoulders to his biceps to his pecs to his hair, scraping over his nipples and abs.

harry keeps one hand on liam’s lower back, sliding his fingers beneath liam’s jeans to fit them underneath the elastic waistband of liam’s pants, touching the bare skin there. he thrusts up to meet liam’s hips, groaning when the denim slides roughly and their cocks rub against each other. he edges his other hand down the front of liam’s shirt, unbuttoning as much as he can between the way that liam won’t stop kissing him wet and messy, breathing heavily into him.

liam’s chest is incredibly warm under harry’s hands. he can’t help but make a noise at liam’s overheated skin, breathing in harshly, separating the material of liam’s shirt so that it hangs from his shoulders, feeling the solid muscles in liam’s stomach tense, running the backs of his knuckles over the trail of hair that disappears into liam’s pants and trousers. he traces his thumb around the button on liam’s jeans and liam jerks his hips a little, making a high-pitched keening noise.

harry bites at liam’s bottom lip and then pulls back. he watches liam’s eyes flutter open and pops the button free. liam’s mouth looks obscenely swollen, utterly puffy and red, smeared with spit. his eyes look black, standing out in sharp contrast to the flush on his cheeks and neck. harry shifts his hips up in a slow rock just to watch the way that liam breathes in, his whole chest caving, his hands on harry’s shoulders clenching, his mouth falling slack, feeling liam so hard against him. he starts to unzip liam’s jeans but one of liam’s hands slides down from his shoulder to grasp his hand, stilling it. before he can look up into liam’s face, liam’s reaching between them to unbutton harry’s jeans quickly, tugging them open.

harry tries to say, “liam, wait, hey,” but liam slides off of his lap to kneel between his long open legs, pushing his jeans down to his thighs, rubbing at where the inseam has left red lines against his skin. he’s palming at harry’s cock through his pants before harry gets a chance to breathe. harry thrusts up involuntarily into it, making a sudden noise in his throat, reaching for liam’s shoulder. liam arches forward to mouth at him. he presses his tongue against the head of harry’s cock like he’ll be able to taste him through his pants.

harry moans, scrubbing his hand through liam’s hair. “you don’t have to,” he tries to say but his lungs are working overtime, expanding much too fast for him to take in enough air. “we can,” he tries to say again. liam sucks at him, wetting the cotton so that it clings to harry and harry watches one of liam's hands disappear in-between his own legs where harry imagines him palming himself. he can’t help from thrusting up against liam’s mouth again, biting his lip to keep the muffled sound in.

liam runs his mouth along the length of him and then bends back up so that he isn’t on his knees as much as crouched over harry. he kisses below harry’s belly-button, peeling his pants down. harry lifts his hips up from the couch to help, squeezing the back of liam’s neck, scraping his hand over his shoulder, feeling how hot to the touch he’s become.

when harry’s pants are pushed to his thighs with his jeans, his cock huge and hard, wet at the tip with precome against his stomach, liam stands up to finish undoing his own jeans and starts shoving them down, kicking his trainers and toeing his socks off. he seems frantic in his haste to get them off and he’s staring at harry’s cock, trailing his eyes up harry’s body to his face. harry watches the flush creep down liam’s neck to his chest, his eyes totally black.

liam stumbles out of his jeans and pants and says, “where’s the,” his voice low and hoarse. he turns around to the coffee table and pulls at a drawer, saying, “i think i have, shit, where’s,” and harry can hear him shoving things around. he starts to sit up to help liam, staring at his arse, watching the muscles in his back and shoulders cling to the material of his button-down, the white fabric doing nothing to hide anything as liam bends over the table. he says, “liam?”

and liam turns back around, moving all the way up until he’s back in harry’s lap like he had been, spreading his knees wider than before, his thighs hot over harry’s legs, his bare cock leaking up against harry’s stomach, his arse right against harry’s own cock. harry grips at liam’s hips immediately, squeezing hard enough to bruise as his mouth draws open. liam slaps a condom to his chest and says, “here, can you,” wetting his mouth.

he stares at liam fumbling with a small bottle of lube, trying to smear some onto his fingers, lifting his hips up. he stares until liam looks up at him, his hair starting to stick to his forehead with sweat and curl, two of his fingers coated and slick, his pupils completely whole, his mouth red. liam says, “harry,” and the sound breaks in the middle when he reaches behind his balls to rub over his hole.

harry says, “fuck, liam,” and squeezes his hip again, his hands covering all the way up to liam’s waist before he startles into action, watching entranced as liam slides a finger in up to his first knuckle, groaning, his forehead falling forward onto harry’s shoulder while harry rips open the foil packet with his teeth and one hand. he rolls the condom on looking over liam’s shoulder and the view it gives of liam opening himself up with his whole finger, thrusting in makes harry have to grip himself at the base of his cock for a moment.

he takes the bottle gently from where liam’s fisting it against his other shoulder, thrusting up and down slowly onto two of his fingers, and smears lube onto his own fingers, reaching down to replace liam’s hand with his own, sliding his other hand down liam’s back over his shirt. he meets liam’s fingers at his hole and liam makes a noise instantly, squirming. harry says into his ear, “here, let me.” and liam turns his face towards harry against his shoulder, breathing sharp, the sound so loud in harry’s ear.

he kisses liam on the mouth while he traces over his hole and then presses in, gently, while liam slides his own fingers out. liam opens his mouth up into the kiss and spreads his legs wider, pressing down onto harry’s finger, making a sound like he'd be moaning if he had enough breath. he’s unbelievably tight and hot around harry.

by the time harry adds a second finger, liam’s grinding against him as eagerly as he’d been before when they’d been in their jeans. harry tries to press in a third finger and liam rolls his head on harry’s shoulder, his heated face and sweaty forehead rubbing against harry’s skin. he says, “please, i’m ready,” and pushes down onto harry’s fingers. he still feels so tight and harry bites his lip, stretches his fingers apart slowly inside of him. liam says again, “please,” right into harry’s ear, hot and dry, and harry takes in a shaky breath.

he doesn’t have much time to steady himself though, even with the way his head feels overly light and airy, dizzy in an entirely different way than he’d been in the cab, the taste of liam and vodka and tequila in his mouth confusing alongside the smell of musk and sweat, hot like someone’s lighting him up from the inside out -- he doesn’t have much time because liam’s pushing the bottle back into harry’s free hand, holding himself up by harry’s shoulders, and harry slides his fingers out and flips the bottle open to slick himself up.

he lines himself up with liam, holding onto his hips and his prick with one hand, but liam takes the cue immediately, lowering onto harry as soon as he feels the blunt head of his cock against him. liam sinks down until harry’s completely settled in him. he’s so tight around harry, so hot and wet from the lube that harry has to squeeze his eyes shut, his nails digging into liam’s hips underneath his shirt, his breath shuttering.

he opens his eyes to see liam’s entire face flushed, his mouth open, his eyebrows drawn together. before harry can ask him if he’s alright, liam’s raising up on his knees and lowering himself down again. it’s a slow, slick slide and harry moans, thrusting up a little without meaning to. liam’s hands on harry’s shoulders clench, pulling him, biting at his own lip. he raises himself up and leans forward into harry further, adjusting the angle so that his arms are draped over harry’s shoulders, his shirt sleeves damp and warm against harry, his face close enough to kiss, his forehead almost resting against harry’s and he sinks down again before breathing out suddenly, loudly, moaning.

harry drags his hands up liam’s back over his shirt soaked through with sweat as liam picks up the pace, thrusting down onto harry’s cock eagerly, riding him. his thighs make a slapping sound against harry’s and he keeps making hitching noises that break off into moans at the back of his throat right into harry’s ear, pressing his face closer to harry’s, scrambling his hands over the back of harry’s shoulders like he’s trying to have more of him.

harry grunts and rubs at liam’s hips and sides, down and up his back and thighs, squeezing his arse, thrusting up into him. he’s so tight that harry doesn’t know how long he’s going to last. he fucks into liam deeper, and liam only widens his legs, sinking further down on harry’s cock, grinding against him. they work into a rhythm, harry thrusting up right as liam thrusts down, but liam breaks it to grind down harder, tightening around harry’s cock in him like he wants him to stay so deep, as deep as possible, keep him there. 

harry feels pressure building hot and heavy at the base of his spine, insistent, and he unlatches his hand from liam’s hip to stroke him between their bodies where liam’s cock is thick and hard, curved, leaking with precome. he almost gets his fingers around the base of liam’s cock before liam reaches suddenly for his hand, desperately, groaning into his neck. he shoves harry’s hand away and says, “no, i -- like this.” his voice is much more raspy than it’d been before.

harry says, “fuck,” flexing his hand around liam's hand holding his, around liam’s bare side below his ribs beneath his shirt, thrusting up hard into him. liam says, “wanna come like this, just from this,” and harry can’t breathe, his lungs seizing up in his chest, his body overcome with heat, the pressure at the base of his spine unbearable, liam so hot and tight around him.

he says, “liam, i can’t -- i’m gonna,” and liam just groans again, thrusting down against him even more eagerly, spreading his thighs, saying, “fuck, please, i want you to.” harry feels his eyes start to water, gripping the back of liam’s neck so firm that it’s got to sting, clawing at his hip, thrusting up again and again, the sound of their skin echoing in the room. liam’s panting into his ear, “come in me, i want you to, harry,” and harry can’t help it when he does, groaning so loud it cuts off into a gasp, his chest heaving, pushing all the way up into liam.

it takes harry a long moment before he can open his eyes. spots of color pop brightly in his field of vision like he’d squeezed his eyes shut too hard, and his mouth feels dry. but liam’s still on him, tight and hot, rotating his hips in small circles, his mouth open against harry’s throat, his hands sliding through his hair and down the back of his neck. harry feels heavy and slow, his face and hands numb.

sensitivity start to cut sharp through him from where liam’s still on him. he pets at liam’s hips with his thumbs, rolling his tongue around his mouth so that he can say, “liam, can you,” clearing his throat. he feels stuck to the cushion like it’s made from adhesive and his jeans are gritty against his legs, heavy like he’s been swimming with them on, his toes numb in his boots. he kisses the side of liam’s face and does it once more when liam makes a noise, tilting his jaw into it. “can you, s’too much,” he says. he runs his hands down liam’s thighs and starts to raise liam’s hips off of him. the sensitivity is sharp and prickly, making his face break into a wince, shooting up his body like a fissure along his spine. liam makes another noise though, more desperate, and grabs at harry’s shoulders, trying to slide back down onto his softening cock, saying, “not yet, wait, just.”

the air pushes out of harry’s lungs suddenly, and he holds onto liam’s hips more firmly, keeping them raised mid-air, stilling him. his face feels warm and the sensation is too much, too hot around his cock, too tight, too slick. the way liam had sounded -- like he’d only ever ask harry for this one thing -- rings in his ears. he keeps liam’s hips still, grits his teeth and pulls out even against the noise like a sob that liam makes, even as liam’s kneading his shoulders and saying, “don’t, just -- stay.”

he rolls liam gently onto his back.

liam’s hesitant to let go of harry, but he sinks into the cushions, laying on his back, spreading his knees apart as his legs hang over the side of the couch and his feet hit the floor, breathing quickly. harry leans over to kiss him and liam responds instantly, surging up into it, his tongue urgent against harry’s mouth, his teeth unforgiving as they bite against his lips. harry’s still trying to breathe normally, get his lungs to calm down enough to take in a proper amount of air, shake off the quivering loose feeling spreading throughout his body. he can feel the sweat all along his back drying as he crouches over liam and kneels on the cushion beside him, ignoring the way his jeans and pants become more and more twisted around his thighs.

he pulls back to look at liam’s face. his cheeks are so red, and his eyes look glassy, unfocused, his bottom lip trembling. harry rolls off the condom as quickly as he can, tying it and placing it carefully onto the coffee table behind him. he kisses liam after, who opens up again just as easily as before. he kisses down the side of liam’s neck, dragging his open mouth against liam’s skin, kisses up to his ear and says into it, “what do you want, hmm? anything you want.” he hums a little and takes liam’s earlobe into his mouth.

liam moans, arching his neck and grabs for harry’s closest hand, pulling it onto his chest right by his collarbone, laying it flat so that his large palm and fingers are all touching liam’s skin before sliding it down. when liam pushes harry’s hand past his belly-button, over the v of his hips, harry makes to stroke at his cock, but liam makes a noise into his mouth and twists away, saying, “no, just,” and he pushes harry’s hand lower until his fingers are sliding across where’s he’s still a bit slick, opened up from harry fucking him. "just this," liam says, his voice stretched thin.

a sound gets caught in harry’s throat, and he pulls away from liam’s mouth, staring down at him, mere inches away while his fingers move in a slow circle. he says, “really -- you, really?” his voice comes out rough and hoarse.

liam’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and he nods a little, reaching his hand up to touch harry’s shoulder. when harry presses the tip of his finger in, liam’s eyes open up immediately, his face flushing anew, breathing in deeply. he threads his fingers through harry’s hair, gripping him, and says, raspy, “really.” he wets his mouth.

harry presses his finger in further and feels liam’s hand in his hair tighten, watches him shift his face into the cushion, pushing his cheek against it. he makes another sound at the back of his throat and says, “yeah, ‘course,” sounding just as hoarse. he slides his finger out to fumble for the lost bottle of lube, which he finds between the armrest and first cushion, and coat his fingers before reaching for liam again.

liam’s shifted so that his feet are up against the side of the coffee table, his long legs bent at the knee and spread. he’s rubbing one hand over his neck and chin, his other fisted in where his shirt’s hanging halfway down his shoulders, his cock thick and heavy, completely hard against his stomach.

harry lifts one of liam’s legs to get between them so that they’re settled on either side of him and he holds his weight up with his free hand on the couch beside liam, next to his ribs, bowing so that he’s able to slide his fingers against liam. his necklaces swing forward, suspended above liam’s sternum. he leans closer to kiss liam’s mouth as he traces liam’s rim like he had before.

liam sucks at harry’s bottom lip and says, “get on with it,” rolling his hips down, so harry presses two fingers in at once. liam moans immediately and his legs fall open further. he slides his tongue to touch harry’s teeth when harry starts to thrust, and when he crooks them the right way liam’s mouth goes slack, moaning helplessly.

harry begins to pick up the pace, his arm tightening and liam arches his back, pushing down onto him, his thighs flexing and trembling. harry slides his free hand up liam’s hip and waist around his shirt, feels how warm he is, feels liam around his fingers hot and tight, feels the muscles in liam’s stomach contracting and the way the skin there’s becoming sticky from precome and sweat. he keeps pushing down onto harry’s fingers like he wants more, so harry presses a third finger in and liam’s mouth drops open.

he can’t shut up after that, even when he hides his face beneath his forearm, his arrow tattoos right above his mouth. harry hears him -- moaning into his arm, the muffled sounds at the back of his throat, half-words that get cut off. liam’s gripping harry’s bicep so tightly that harry thinks it’s going to bruise, a red white handprint leftover on his skin as liam’s blunt nails dig in.

he kisses liam’s throat, sucks at the skin beneath his ear hard enough to leave a wet red mark, trails his mouth over liam’s chest, rests his forehead on liam’s stomach and feels liam pulling at his hair as he fucks him. he watches liam’s cock dripping precome all over himself, so hard that when harry crooks his fingers again and pushes in particularly deep he thinks liam’s got to come, but liam only spreads his knees and thrusts his hips up, trying to get harry to slide in deeper, harder.

liam starts saying, “harry, please,” his hands feeling overly hot and sweaty where they grip for harry’s shoulders and hair.

harry leans closer to his mouth, kissing him between his gasps, and says, “tell me what you want,” fucking into him. “wanna make you come.”

liam’s face twists, his eyebrows drawing together, breathing in so deeply and then he says, “fuck me,” and he groans, as if the thought alone is too much, pushing down harder onto harry’s fingers, urging him. “fuck me, please.”

harry can barely keep track of the way liam’s breathing let alone his own ribs aching in his chest. his breath comes in quick, his pulse thudding in his ears. he says, “you want more?” and starts to trace his fourth finger around liam’s rim, and liam moans and thrusts up abruptly. liam says, “don’t,” and scratches his hand down harry’s back, shifting his face to look right at him, his eyes open and dark, shiny. “don’t tease.” his voice breaks when he says, “fuck me with your cock.”

harry groans. he’s half hard again already, thickening up against his thigh, and liam shoves at his wide chest, reaching down between them to slide harry’s fingers out, his hands shaking. harry kisses his hands and mouth, lingering before he pulls back to find another condom from the drawer in the coffee table.

he manages to find one just beneath a stack of notepads and pens. he hears liam shifting and the muted creak of the couch behind him. when he turns around, liam’s sitting up on his knees facing the back of the couch, his arms laying over the headrest, his shirt tight across his back and shoulders, his knees spread, his feet hanging off over the end of the couch. his head’s tilted so that he’s looking over his shoulder at harry.

harry reaches down to palm at himself briefly, biting his lip. he can see how unfocused and dark liam’s eyes are from there, how flushed his face is, his swollen mouth, the flex in his thighs and back, his bare arse.

harry doesn’t waste any time rolling the fresh condom on and slicking himself up, growing harder even through the lingering sensitivity. he gets right up behind liam, kneeling on the couch behind him between his knees, his jeans and thighs up against liam’s bare legs, sliding his hands down liam’s sides, squeezing below his ribs, thrusting a little against his arse. he presses a kiss to liam’s neck right above his shirt collar and runs his mouth up to his ear to say, “this how you want it?”

liam moans, his hands clenching and unclenching over the headrest, tilting his neck to give harry more access and harry brushes his mouth along liam’s jaw and stubble, grips himself, lining up with liam, spreading his knees apart further. he starts to push in and liam gasps a little, pressing back into him, so harry wraps his arm around liam’s middle and pulls him back into his body as he slides all the way in. liam’s shirt and back is completely up against harry’s chest, and the material clings to both of them, damp and saturated with sweat.

harry pauses inside liam and breathes into his neck, tugging at his shirt collar with his teeth. he says, “this what you wanted?” and punctuates it with a slow grinding thrust. liam feels just as tight as he did before, but more hot and more wet, taking harry easily. he moans and pushes back against harry. he says, “yeah,” and his voice gives out when harry thrusts into him again, harder than before. liam says again, “yeah, harry, fuck.” he keeps pushing back against harry, looking at him over his shoulder, his mouth open, his eyes heavy-lidded and all harry can do is reach around to grip his shoulder, thrust in more quickly, harder until their skin’s slapping against each other, his jeans rubbing raw at liam’s thighs.

he fucks liam like that until liam’s keening, slouched over onto the back of the couch and his forearms, his knees spread as wide as possible, his eyes rolling up in his head and pressure’s building steadily at the base of harry’s spine, sparking white hot. he rests his head against the back of liam’s shoulder, liam’s ruined shirt rubbing against his forehead and says, “fuck, liam, i wanna see you come.”

he slides in slowly, pushing deep before he pulls all the way out just as slowly. liam makes a noise like a sob, glancing over his shoulder at harry with his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth twisting over something close to a frown, looking wrecked, his cheeks flushed. harry kisses him and says, “turn over, c’mon,” running his hands up liam’s sides and shifting him around, slipping off the couch so that he can slide liam down to lay like he was before, on his back with his legs bent around harry, feet up on the coffee table.

liam’s whole stomach looks wet and sticky, his whole chest red. harry rests his knees on the end of the cushion, mostly standing up and takes ahold of liam’s hips, lifting them partway into the air, angling them so that harry can slide back into him. liam’s arms are behind his head, his palms stretched out flat against the cushion behind him for leverage, his biceps flexing, the veins in his forearms standing out beneath his tattoos. he’s watching harry and breathing heavily through his mouth. when harry pushes back into him, his knees come up to either side of harry’s hips, his ankles pressing in above harry’s arse, and he arches his back, urging harry to slide further into him.

harry groans at the immediate feeling of liam hot and tight around him. he thrusts hard, holding liam’s hips taut and feels liam trying to roll his hips down against him. he fucks into liam again and again, shifting his grip to hold liam’s thighs apart in his large hands, and liam meets him eagerly, pushing his hands against the cushion behind his head like the leverage will make harry sink in even deeper. liam’s moaning, his breath rushing in and out of his chest and harry stares at his ribs expanding, his open mouth, his eyes screwed shut and fucks him harder.

liam starts to say, “harry,” in-between breaths, dragging his name out in a moan, pushing against him, gasping, “harry, i’m,” and liam’s hands fist above his head, burrowing his face into the inside of his upper arm, biting at the skin there and saying against it, “i’m so close.”

the couch’s beginning to creak and shake from their weight, trembling on its legs as harry thrusts into liam and watches his eyes roll back in his head, watches him take it, feeling him growing warmer than ever, incredibly hot around harry’s cock, under his hands. the pressure at the base of harry’s spine keeps building, climbing up with his pulse low in his chest, off the charts, his necklaces smacking against his collarbone, his legs feeling heavy and overly hot, liam feeling so fucking tight around him, liam’s cock starting to jerk untouched on his stomach.

his grip on liam’s thighs gets slippery and he digs his nails in, fucking liam, saying, “come on, come for me.” liam groans and tightens around him, and harry grits his teeth, clenching his jaw. he says, “fuck, i’m going to --” and liam’s more frantic than he’s ever been, saying his name over and over, pushing back against him hard and eager, fast and deep, taking it.

harry says, “liam, wanna see you come.” his whole body feels flushed, soaked with a thick sheen of sweat, his jeans glued to his legs and lower thighs. “wanna see you come from just my cock,” his voice breaks in the middle when liam moans so loud, much louder than before and harry feels his body go red white hot when liam starts to come, his slit opening up, spilling all over his stomach and chest, his whole chest caving in, his thighs trembling under harry’s hands, making a loud breathless desperate noise. harry comes helplessly, white sparking at the edges of his vision, no less quiet, right after into liam and the tight press of the condom.

he only just manages not collapse on top of liam’s chest, catching himself with his forearm on the couch beside liam’s head and shoulders. his arm’s shaking though, and he starts to lower himself slowly, more and more until he’s resting against liam as much as possible, hunched over him, liam’s ankles still around his hips and arse, their chests touching. he presses his face into liam’s hair and the side of his face. they’re both breathing too quickly to talk and harry’s throat feels raw, completely sore. it’s so hot between their bodies like they’ve been laying in a sauna for hours or days, the air dense with steam.

when harry starts to find enough energy to pull out though, swallowing, wiping a hand down his face, taking open-mouthed breaths, liam’s hand tightens from where its found his hair, gripping weakly. liam says, “just, wait.” he hears liam breathing quickly and clearing his throat from where his face is still in liam’s hair. liam says, “not yet. stay, for a minute, yeah?”

harry feels a shudder run through his entire body. he says, “jesus, yeah. christ.” he burrows his face more securely in liam’s hair and feels liam’s fingers stroking at the back of his neck.

*

they only have enough energy to shove the coffee table out of the way and lay side by side on the floor with their shoulders touching after harry pulls out and rolls the condom off. liam’s still wearing his shirt, but harry’s kicked shoes off, and his jeans and pants down to linger around one ankle.

he closes his eyes as his body starts prickle with dried sweat, cooling in stages, calming down gradually until his heart isn’t grinding in his chest so hard, his lungs aching less. he hears liam say next to him in a wrecked voice, utterly hoarse, “that was,” clearing his throat a couple of times. “um,” he says.

harry opens his eyes and starts to crack a smile. “yeah,” he says, emphatically, agreeing. “quite.” he turns his head on the floor to look at liam next to him and after a moment, liam turns his head to look back at harry, mirroring his smile.

liam quirks his eyebrows, grinning enough that his eyes are crinkling. he says, “shower?”

and harry thinks, yeah, in just a minute, as soon as he can feel his toes again. then maybe bed after, wrapped up in liam’s warm comforter, his down feather pillows, the smell of his sheets. nothing to wake up early for tomorrow, either -- plenty of time for him to tuck his head under liam’s chin and convince him to lay about until liam’s too jittery to stand it any longer. he says, “yeah,” and reaches out blindly to find liam’s hand, looking into his smiling face, the lighting falling gently around the side of his cheek, the slope of his nose, the line of his jaw, his throat. “in a bit,” he says and grins back enough to dimple.


End file.
